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Why am I getting all worked up?
Needing some space, I’m about to escape to the shower when he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”
I clear my throat. “Alex and I…” I pause, and Nino nods his support. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand anyway.”
“Try me.”
CHAPTER11
ALWAYS ON THE RUN
Nino
Maybe pushing the issue of Ash’s relationship with his phantom of a man wasn’t such a good idea. Yet, the mystery that surrounds Alex has nagged me ever since Ash mentioned him. At least, I know what his overbearing boyfriend looks like now. The dark-haired guy oozes confidence, drive, and sex. His dark haughty stare betrays a wilder nature, and the bump on his nose looks like the result of a fist fight. Oh well, it’s not like I really care; I’m just concerned about Ash and his feelings.
Does the online friendship that Ash referenced give me license to pry? The sudden stiffness in my shoulders is evidence enough that I should backpedal. “Forget what I said. It’s none of my business.”
Letting his fork drop on his plate, Ash takes a deep breath. “I know…” His blue eyes bore into mine. “It’s just… I don’t know…”—he averts my gaze—“...embarrassing.”
“Mmm… Let’s drop it.” I wave my hand in front of my face. Focusing on his face, I attempt to find a resemblance to anyone famous and fail. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling me that my friend is one of a kind. With that, I redirect the conversation. “Want more pancakes?”
“Nah, it’s fine.” Before I have time to discern whether he means that prying is okay or that he’s had enough to eat, my friend gets up without a glance in my direction. He proceeds to clean the table and packs the remaining pancakes in his small fridge, then adds, “I’m fine.”
I seriously doubt that...
Following his every move, I stay put and snatch my phone to check my messages, giving him some space to make up for myfaux pas. My turmoil lessens when I see one from Garcia.
Garcia
How’s NY, pretty boy?
So much for keeping my cool… Staring at the message blankly, I roll my eyes.
Seriously, Garcia, I adore you, but you’ve gotta stop doing this.
Despite the awkward conversation, I’m all ears. I switch my phone to airplane mode; Garcia can wait, especially considering the time difference.
Still, I debate on my next course of action with Ash and promptly decide to hold off until he’s done with the dishes; I want his full attention.
Meanwhile, I take a quick look outside Ash’s window; the rain hasn’t slowed. I’m not sure what he has planned for us today, but walking around Park Slope isn’t in the cards. Thankfully, the outdoor portion of the photo shoot is finished. I need to relax this weekend. I’ve barely slept since I crashed on his couch on Thursday night, although I wouldn’t admit that to Ash. Last night was even worse because I overindulged in alcohol. I don’t regret it, but it took a toll on my already sleep-deprived state.
The post-work happy hour celebrating Ash’s coworker Kevin’s recent nuptials was fun. Yet, I didn’t expect everyone’s gaydar to be heightened thanks to Kevin’s flaming gay husband, Dylan. We drank our fair share, but Ash declined to join us on the makeshift dance floor in the cozy Manhattan bar.
Although I didn’t discuss Ash’s blatant nervousness when we Ubered our way back to Brooklyn, I felt it radiating from him when he thanked me for tagging along while fumbling with his keys on his doorstep. His last-minute invitation surprised me, but when I learned that his new manager wouldn’t be there, it all made sense. I don’t blame him, though. According to everyone, this guy’s a Grade-A asshole.
What stunned me more was Ash’s uncharacteristic behavior. At first, I attributed it to the piercing stares we attracted. No doubt, they were trying to ascertain if he and I were a couple because his relationship status is kept under wraps. I replay last night’s events to confirm that we didn’t get touchy-feely and shake my head in satisfaction.
Nah, that’ll never happen.
Nothing about Ash screams gay, and I know for a fact that he’d be upfront if asked, he just doesn’t broadcast it. He easily confided that his family was cool with it… As for my confession, that’ll have to wait. I don’t want him to think that I have daddy issues.
Ash’s interactions with his coworkers exhibited a different side of him. I’m allured by his personality; he’s an unusual mix of assertive—the Ash I’ve come to know—and reserved—the Ashton Cooper that stayed at the table while others danced. It struck me that he’s more at ease around me than he was around people he’s known for years. I wonder why that is.
“I didn’t mean to make you mad.” Ash’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Huh?” I look up at him, and my mouth drops open in confusion. “What are you talking about,timal?”
“You... sounded mad.”
